Notorious - A SuperLock Fanfiction
by SuperlockianHobbit
Summary: Robert Singer goes to London upon being contacted by his old partner. Days later Dean receives a distress call from Bobby, and in an effort to find him, he and Sam travel to London as well. In an unforeseen turn of events, they become acquainted with John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, two men who are investigating the mysterious disappearances of several men and women in the city.
1. Chapter 1

"Where are you heading, miss?" the driver inquired.

"Two-two-one-b Baker Street. And just call me Martha, dear," Mrs. Hudson chimed as she climbed into the cab, which then departed from Heathrow Airport and retreated onto the main road, which was cramped with morning traffic. After several minutes passed without any movement, the driver glanced at Mrs. Hudson in the rear-view mirror. It was then that he noticed what appeared to be a petite clay box nestled in the woman's lap, her thin fingers wrapped tightly around it.

The box had several chips and cracks lining its surface, indicating old age and wear. It was beige, and its lid appeared to have fused with the remainder of the relic. Among the many small fissures embellishing the object were several markings covering the entirety of its surface.

"What's that you got there?" the man found himself asking.

"_Well_," Mrs. Hudson began without hesitation. "It was my last day in Alexandria and I decided to go on an evening cruise. Sometime after we left the dock, I was approached by a strangely-dressed man—he looked very out-of-place, y'know? Anyways, the poor fellow seemed very unnerved and petrified, but before I could have asked if he was alright, he handed me this box and persisted that I take it back home with me, as it was supposedly worth a pretty penny given its history. He refused my attempts to return it to him and practically ran off once he finished speaking."

The driver glanced again at the worn, seemingly useless box. "Did he by any chance tell you of its origins?"

"He spoke very frantically...but," Martha paused, worrying her lip in thought. "From what I could recall, it's supposedly an artifact from the tomb of Ptahmose, the High Priest of Amun during the reign of Amenhotep III and Akhenaton," she finished.

The driver raised his eyebrows amusingly and nodded. "Did he ever mention what's inside?"

Mrs. Hudson didn't respond, instead bursting out in laughter.

"What's so funny?" he asked, feeling a smile starting at the corners of his lips.

"Oh, it's just that I remembered," the elderly woman paused, trying to recollect herself. "Yes, he _did_ tell me what was inside. But it's so _ridiculous_—what was it he said again? Ah, yes: 'he is the highest of His species...the third of seven...He beckons release', or something along those lines—"

"Wait—_he_?" the driver interjected. "There's someone in that box?" Martha wiped some tears from the corners of her eyes, and chuckled at the question.

"Well, not someone, but some_thing_," she replied, placing a hand on her chest in an attempt to calm herself down. She breathed out and shook her head. "You know what that man said was inside the box? A _demon_, a demon supposedly exorcised from Akhenaton himself. Aka Manah is its name, I believe." At this, she began laughing even harder. "Can you believe that? Oh God, that's one of the funniest things I've ever heard, I tell you."

The driver laughed along nervously, eyeing his passenger warily. The man himself wasn't very religious, but having been baptized and brought up as a Christian he had been exposed to the topic of demonology and wasn't one to treat it as a joke.

"Ah, oh well, even if this trinket isn't worth anything, it'll be a nice souvenir," Mrs. Hudson continued, raising the fragile clay box so as to get a better look at the faded inscriptions. "It is somewhat fascinating—"

Without warning, a car beside the cab accelerated and attempted to merge into the same lane despite the obvious lack of space.

"Bloody _hell_," the driver cursed and floored the brake, bringing the cab to an abrupt halt, the momentum thrusting him into the steering wheel painfully. He heard his passenger shriek and a very audible crack sounded mere moments afterwards. The man sighed heavily in exasperation and quickly pushed back against his seat before continuing forward in the bustling traffic. The sound of the crack resonated in his mind, and he felt his heart rate increase drastically as a sudden feeling of dread began to develop in his gut. "Are-are you alright, Martha?"

A good minute passed without a response, and in that time the driver felt the temperature of the cab drop several degrees. The man frowned, glancing at the air conditioner settings only to see that the system wasn't even on. He began to grow tense, and was reluctant to glance in the rear-view mirror. The sudden stench of must and rotten eggs met his nostrils, and the man inaudibly gasped.

"_Martha?_" he asked desperately.

"I feel so..._so_ amazing, Sebastian, damn...you have no idea," the woman cooed, her sing-song voice now sharp and cold.

Sebastian quickly looked into the rear-view mirror, eyes wide. His heart skipped several beats and his entire body broke out in tremors. "I never told you my name."

Mrs. Hudson didn't respond, and the man didn't dare utter another word; he couldn't do anything and found himself praying for the first time in years.

"Oh, He can't help you," the woman taunted, a menacing edge in her voice. Sebastian looked at Mrs. Hudson, feeling the color flushing from his face.

The woman's eyes were completely obsidian except for the pupil, which was a burning crimson red. She was still grinning madly, and the man felt his vision cloud with tears. "Martha" slowly leaned forward, nearing his shoulder. The driver tensed up, only to see the passenger's palm extend into his peripheral vision, on which he saw several differently-sized clay pieces—the remnants of the clay box. Mrs. Hudson leaned in even closer, until her lips were only inches away from Sebastian's ear.

"I'm free."

The loud blare of a horn snapped the cab driver back into reality, and he swiveled his head to the right rapidly. Sebastian focused on the road, and realized he ran a red light. The man's stomach dropped, and he quickly peeled his foot off the gas pedal in a panic, veering into the intersection and directly into the path of an incoming semi-truck.

"Oh God," he cried as the deafening shriek of the semi's brakes filled his eardrums, the vehicular behemoth drawing closer with every passing second. Sebastian's screams were silenced when the truck's front bumper slammed into the driver's side of the car.


	2. Chapter 2

Victor Abbington tapped his foot uneasily as he read the plaques mounted above the hospital corridors. He was the only patient in the vacant sitting area, and this, combined with the growing anticipation of being summoned by a doctor, made him resort to anything as a distraction.

The man finally spotted 'Restrooms' among the list of several other services and rooms, and he quickly adjusted his black leather jacket and flattened his worn jeans prior to making his way out of the lobby.

He entered the corridor and immediately spotted a pair of nurses rounding the corner at the end of the hallway. They were hurriedly wheeling two stretchers forward, each burdening an unconscious person.

The face of the young man on the first stretcher was battered and bloody; enormous bleeding gashes scattered his flesh, more heavily concentrated on the right side of his body. His right arm and legs

were bent at grotesque angles, the majority of his clothes soaked in crimson.

The second stretcher bore a woman in her early-to-mid-sixties, whose head sagged to the side, giving Victor a better visual of the small series of abrasions and scratches lining her face and other visible patches of skin. Her blouse and dress pants were spattered in blood and torn, but overall she was in decent condition in comparison to the former patient.

Victor quickly moved out of the way, his eyes transfixed on the two patients as they were wheeled past him. His eyes lingered on the woman for just a second longer, and without warning her eyes flickered open. His heart jumped at the too-familiar sight of ebony eyes; chills raked up and down the man's spine and he hurriedly looked at the nurse, however she didn't seem to notice anything.

As the medical personnel entered the main lobby, Victor caught sight of the woman's mouth slowly inching open, out of which a faint trail of obsidian smoke began to ooze out subtly. It sunk to the floor and out of the nurses' sights, not dispersing. The nurses turned and disappeared down another corridor, not giving any indication that they had noticed the dark mass at their feet.

The breath hitched in Victor's throat, and he could do nothing but gape in horror as the onyx substance started to speedily condense and conform into a vaguely human figure.

The atmosphere in the lobby immediately grew thick with electricity, and a strong stench of decay and rotten eggs breached Victor's nostrils. Pure terror overwhelmed him, and he instinctively began bolting down the passage until he reached a large door labelled 'Men's Restroom'.

Victor hastily urged the door open with his numb hands, ran inside, and pressed against the door with his back to shut it faster. The man began fumbling in the darkness for a light switch, his hands trembling as they swept across the smooth bathroom wall.

"_Damn it_." The man scowled, growing progressively more frantic in his search. His palm suddenly brushed against a slick and cool surface: a mirror. Shifting both his hands to the right, Victor felt his fingers slide along the glass, his heart rate gradually elevating.

The temperature abruptly dropped several degrees, and only seconds later, light engulfed the entirety of the room. Victor winced, his eyes straining to adjust. After the bright spots cleared from his vision, the man found that he was indeed touching a mirror. At this realization, an overwhelming feeling of apprehension settled in his gut—he never turned the light on.

The man slowly withdrew his wavering fingers from the glass, and looked at his reflection.

_It_ was right behind him.

Victor whirled around and staggered away from the figure, past the rows of sinks and paper towel dispensers until he was pressed against the wall nearest to the door.

"Stay away from me," he threatened, reaching his right hand into his back pocket for the small flask of holy water he constantly carried despite having retired from hunting ten years ago. Although he'd been told several times before, he only now understood that a hunter could never call it quits.

"_Victor._.," the demon purred, its horrendously raspy voice echoing around the room. Victor grabbed a hold of the flask and withdrew it, waving it at the demon as a warning. To the man's dread, what sounded like the cackle of a persistent smoker began emanating from the figure as it taunted his efforts.

"GET THE _FUCK_ AWAY, I SAID!" he shouted, and without a moment's hesitation unscrewed the flask and began vigorously jerking the bottle's contents in the direction of the demon.

"That won't do you any good," it jeered, the intensity of its menace wavering only ever so slightly when it came in contact with the holy water. An excruciatingly sharp pain suddenly broke out in Victor's right hand and the man screamed in agony. He released his only means of protection, and it clattered onto the bathroom tiles, the remnants of the holy water splattering out.

Adrenaline surged through the man's veins, and he motioned to lunge towards the door. However, he couldn't move; it was as if he had been pinned to the wall. The pain from Victor's hand began to travel up his arm, and gradually spread throughout his body until the man felt as if he was being pulled apart, limb by limb. In the time that Victor felt himself losing unconsciousness, he saw the demon creeping nearer, closing the remaining distance between them.

"This world is corrupt, condemned," the creature seethed, the reek of decaying flesh and sulfur growing stronger. "And I, Aka Manah, am going to claim it as my dominion.

"Hunters are the only obstacles preventing our complete domination over the human race. They have been around for centuries, it is because of them that my brothers and I had been isolated for several millennia.

My species is intelligent and extremely adaptable, much like your kind. But as different as past and present humans may be, a critical weakness of theirs which continues to prevail time is their necessity for connection; they are all interwoven like a complex network, and with precision and time, you can breach its entire infrastructure and eliminate every single one of its components. As a retired hunter, it would have been wise of you to sever your ties with your 'colleagues'. At least then you could have died knowing you weren't the sole cause of their demise."

At this, Aka began to contort and compress himself into a thick, black mass once again, and before Victor could have screamed, the entity breached his mouth and forced itself down his esophagus. The demon easily overcame the man's attempts of resisting it, and fastened itself to every single thought and memory that made Victor Abbington who he was.

The demon scoured through the contents of its new meat suit's mind, absorbing any and all information that would aid in identifying hunters with whom the man had maintained connections. After retaining what he could have, Aka pulled out his vessel's phone from the man's sweater pocket and searched through the lengthy contact list.

The process of calling all of the hunters in London that Victor knew and luring as many of them to the hospital took a mere half hour. However, after skimming through the list one last time, a single uncalled contact remained; the hunter's memory of the person affiliated with the number kept coming up short.

"Robert Singer," Aka read. Something stirred in the vessel's mind upon seeing the name—the microscopic portion still controlled by Victor. Aka immediately advanced upon him, aware that the pitiful human was trying to hide something. Victor wasn't able to resist for long, and soon after the demon claimed the remainder of the vessel's mind. A rush of information came through to the entity, and he grinned maliciously as he learned more about Victor's old hunting partner, 'Bobby'; he quickly found that the man was connected to two infamous hunters whose names the vessel appeared to lack knowledge of.

The demon decided to dial the number; after all, the more hunters that came to the hospital, the better.

Three rings later, somebody picked up.


End file.
